


One Chance Is All We Get

by DetectiveJoan



Category: The Bright Sessions (Podcast)
Genre: F/F, Post-Finale, Time Loop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-21
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2019-06-13 18:25:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15370632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DetectiveJoan/pseuds/DetectiveJoan
Summary: Sam folds her arms and drums her fingers anxiously. “I’ve woken up to the same day three mornings in a row.”Joan peers at Sam over the top of her glasses as though she’s going to be able to see the time-travel on her skin. “Well that’s...interesting,” she says after a moment of deliberation.





	One Chance Is All We Get

**Author's Note:**

> **Content Warnings:** inherent consent issues tied to Joan being 7 years Sam's senior and also her former therapist; mentions of canon kidnapping and imprisonment; canon-typical anxiety/panic attacks.
> 
> Title from "[Honey Jar](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QmGwLXv7zLA)" by Doria Roberts. 
> 
> Written for the prompt "repeating/groundhog day" for the [Trope_Writing_Prompts ](https://pillowfort.io/community/Trope_Writing_Prompts)community on Pillowfort.

The first time Sam lives the day, it’s fine. It’s normal. It’s like any other day.

Totally unremarkable. 

 

The second time she lives it, she figures there must be some kind of glitch in her ability. People are interacting with her normally, though, so she can’t have traveled  _ back _ a day. It must just mean….uh, it means something, probably, but if she thinks about it too hard she’s going to have to go have a panic attack on the bathroom floor at work and she  _ really _ doesn’t want to do that. 

She tells Joan she doesn’t feel well, and begs off the afternoon to go home and waste hours with Darwin while she waits to see if the glitch works itself out overnight. 

 

On day three, she buys a newspaper at the gas station across the street from the AM on her way into work, because having physical evidence of the date makes her feel slightly more settled. She makes a beeline for Joan’s office, and drops the paper heavily in the middle of Joan’s desk.

“Good morning, Sam,” Joan says, moving her cup of coffee out of the way. 

Sam folds her arms. “Have you ever read anything about time loops? Are they possible?” 

“Most things are, in theory,” Joan says obliquely, scanning the headlines. “What am I supposed to be looking at?” 

“The date.” She drums her fingers anxiously. “I’ve woken up to the same day three mornings in a row.” 

Joan peers at Sam over the top of her glasses as though she’s going to be able to see the time-travel on her skin. “Well that’s...interesting,” she says after a moment of deliberation. 

Sam can’t help but sigh in relief that Joan’s willing to believe her so easily. It’s the same sort of instant trust that Joan had given her when they’d first met and Sam had described her trips; it feels just as comforting now. 

They spend the day digging through the AM archives in search of precedent and solution. Unfortunately, Joan hadn’t been lying when she’d told Sam that Camille was the only other person with a time-travel ability she’d ever heard of. They don’t manage to find record of anyone else, even though they keep at it long after dark. 

Sam falls asleep in the car while Joan’s driving her home, and she wakes up in her own bed on the morning of the loop.

She spends some time groaning into her pillow before getting up. 

 

Days four and five and six pass in much the same way, except Joan ropes Agent Green into helping them dig. Between the three of them they manage to exhaust the archives. There are officially no records of any other time-travelers.

“These files only go back to the thirties and only cover locally documented atypicals,” Joan points out. “But obviously there have been other time-travelers  _ somewhere.  _ Have you heard of anything like this during your previous research trips?” 

“Like I wouldn’t have mentioned that to you three days ago?” Sam asks, voice going small. Joan looks mildly surprised, the same way she always does when Sam mouths off. 

Sam turns away and tries to push down the shame flaring in her chest. 

“Plus,” she adds, “I haven’t been able to go on a trip since this started, so we’re stuck with what we have.” 

“I suppose we could look more closely into Camille,” Agent Green suggests. “There’s nothing in her record about a similar experience, but then we may not have noticed it. She always was quite cagey about sharing the details of her ability.” 

“Maybe because you kept her in a cage,” Sam snips, rubbing her eyes. Good lord has it been a long day.

A long day six times over now. 

Green just tilts his head in admission. He looks at Joan and hesitates before speaking again. “She was...rather close with Mark while they were both here. She might have shared something with him,” he suggests. 

 

Sam spends the drive home staring moodily out the window and trying to decide if she could live in this day forever. As far as days to repeat went, it wasn’t bad. She could probably last a while. Hell, Mark had survived two entire years in England; at least here she could still eat and sleep and talk to people. And at least nothing unexpected or dangerous would ever happen to her.

“I’m sorry we didn’t figure anything out,” Joan says very quietly as she pulls up in front of Sam’s house. 

Sam shrugs her off. “Not your fault,” she says. “Also: not for lack of trying. You’ve actually been really great about helping me out through this whole loop. So thanks for that.” 

“You’re welcome,” she says. 

“And I know you don’t remember the other days, but thanks for never thinking that I’m making this up or lying or -- or anything.”  _ Losing my mind.  _

Sam fiddles with the seat belt release. 

“We said we were going to be honest with each other,” Joan says seriously. “Why wouldn’t I trust you?” 

 

Sam waits to call Mark until the next morning. 

He answers the phone with a sigh. “Hey, Sam, no offense, but I have been having the weirdest possible week and I --” 

“I’m stuck in a time loop,” she interrupts, “and this is the seventh time I’ve re-lived today. Is your week more or less weird than that?” 

“Shit, this is you?” he demands immediately. “I’ve been stuck in this stupid day for an entire week because of  _ you?”  _

“It’s not like I’m doing this on purpose,” she says without thinking, and then what he’s said really hits her. “Wait, you’re stuck here too?”

“Oh my God, I can’t believe I didn’t think to call you first,” he mutters as answer. “But -- we’re not even in the same state. Why would I be caught up in your ability blowing a gasket?” 

“Maybe your ability is malfunctioning too?” she guesses, not really believing it. 

Mark sighs again, but this time it sounds like he’s thinking. “Maybe it’s because you’re the one who brought me back into this time?” he says. “I dunno. But I like this more than the alternative I was assuming, which was that there was another atypical somewhere around me that I couldn’t feel.”

Sam shifts her phone to her other ear. “None of those explain why my ability is doing this in the first place,” she points out. 

To her surprise, Mark starts laughing. “Oh, this is actually great,” he says. “I mean, I’m sorry, Sam, but I’m so glad to find out that this is about you and not me.” 

“Uh, okay,” she says. “Why?” 

“Because -- well, don’t tell anyone at the AM this, but the time-travel ability kind of ran in Camille’s family,” Mark says. “Apparently a whole bunch of her ancestors had stories about getting trapped re-living certain moments or days. She told me about it once while we were on a trip.” 

“Did she share any tips on how to get untrapped?” 

“Yeah, the family lore said that time loops were your ability’s way of solving ‘issues of the heart’.” Sam can practically hear the air quotes around the phrase. 

Mark pauses to let what he’s said sink in, but Sam’s not sure what it’s supposed to mean. 

“They said you could only move on once you’d  _ proclaimed your affection,”  _ he emphasizes like they’ve just fallen into one of those hackneyed romance novels Chloe loves so much. “Basically, you gotta tell your crush that you’re into them.”

An image of Joan flashes through Sam’s mind as her heart positively stops.

“I’m not in love with anyone,” she says automatically. It sounds transparent to her own ears.

“Yeah, sure,” Mark says, and he might be laughing again. “Except that I’m  _ actually _ not in love with anyone. So one of us is either lying or in major denial. And I’ve spent the last six days wracking my brain over this, so I’m pretty sure it’s not me.” 

“Oh my God,” Sam says faintly. “I have to go.” 

She hangs up on him, and he calls her back immediately. 

Sam has to take several long seconds to focus on her breathing before she can answer. 

“Please tell me you were just messing with me with that whole love proclamation...whatever,” she says, trying to sound less anxious than she feels. 

“Sorry,” he says. “But it sounds like you’ve got someone in mind, so what’s the big deal?” 

She shifts from one foot to the other. “You’re going to hate this,” she says. 

“Aw, c’mon,” he cajoles. “Who’s the lucky guy?”

She closes her eyes, like that’ll somehow keep the secret in. “Girl,” she corrects. 

“Oh, nice,” he says immediately. “Is that what you’re worried about? Her not being gay, or -- wait, have you ever had a crush on a woman before? Is that what this is about?” 

“I can’t talk about this with you,” she realizes abruptly. “Look, I’ll call you tomorrow.” 

“Do you mean tomorrow, or do you mean the next time we repeat today? Because if there are going to be consequences for today, I’d like to know.” 

“Tomorrow,” she confirms, and takes a deep breath. “I can do this. I can get us out of this. It’s gonna be fine.” 

“It is,” he says. “I have all the faith in the world.” 

 

Joan is sitting at her desk with her mug of coffee, like she has been in every other iteration of the day. 

“Good morning, Sam,” she says, like clockwork.

Like an echo. 

“I need to speak with you privately,” Sam says, trying to strike the balance of sounding serious but not nervous. Oh, God, she’s so nervous.

Joan immediately gestures for Sam to close the office door. She does so as Joan stands and walks around her desk so there’s nothing between the two of them. 

“Is something wrong?” she asks. “Is Mark --”

Sam puts up her hands to stop her. “Mark’s fine. He’s going to be very annoyed with me if I mess this up, probably, but otherwise fine.” 

All the tension leaves Joan’s shoulders at the reassurance. “Okay,” she says. “Then what’s up?” 

She takes a deep breath. “You remember when we agreed we were going to be honest with each other? No more omissions, no more secrets, no more lies.” 

“Yes,” Joan says slowly. Some of the tension might have returned. 

“I have two things to tell you,” Sam admits. She swallows. “First, my ability has been malfunctioning and it caught Mark and I in a time loop. We’ve both been re-living today for a week.” 

Joan doesn’t visibly react to the news. 

“That sounds very difficult,” she says. “Are  _ you _ alright?” 

Sam nods. Honestly, the time loop might be preferable to the next admission tumbling around in her head.

“I’m afraid I’ve never heard of anything like that, but if you’d like my help getting out of it --” 

“Actually,” Sam says, “Mark thinks that we’ll get unstuck after I tell you the second thing.” 

Joan raises her eyebrows, either skeptically or expectantly. It’s hard to distinguish. 

Sam wipes her palms on her slacks and steps closer until she’s standing almost directly in front of Joan. 

“I have to say first that this isn’t how I wanted to tell you,” she says, voice a bit shaky. “I swear I never meant to keep it a secret, but I couldn’t figure out how to let you know. I wanted -- I don’t know, I guess this was just a fantasy, but I kind of thought it would be night time, and we’d out on a beach somewhere. Or something.”

She has to laugh at herself. “I think I just wanted to be out under the stars alone with you. Seemed really romantic.” 

Joan doesn’t move back as Sam takes one more small step closer. 

“Oh,” Joan says softly. A deep red blush emerges high on her cheeks.

“But I didn’t want you to feel any pressure to respond a certain way,” Sam says, kind of rushing to get this part out. “I know the time loop thing makes it seem pretty extreme, but Mark just said I could break the cycle by telling you how I feel. You don’t have to -- I mean, I’ll be fine. If you don’t --”

She has to stop to swallow around the lump in her throat. 

“Sam,” Joan says, and -- she’s smiling,  _ thank God _ , and she puts her hands on either side of Sam’s face and brushes both thumbs across her cheeks. “Of course I feel the same way.” 

“Oh,” Sam says, suddenly remembering how to breathe. “That’s good.” 

Joan laughs, just once, and she’s so close that Sam can feel the warmth of it on her skin before Joan pulls her forward and kisses her slowly. 

**Author's Note:**

> hey, I'm DetectiveJoan and you can always find me yelling about this podcast and romantic cliches over on [tumblr](http://detectivejoan.tumblr.com/)


End file.
